Stepping on Glass
by imaginationstarie13
Summary: Guilt haunts a sick Fenton Hardy with a mix of dreams and reality, where he learns that forgiveness in either realm from the remains of his dead sons is not an easy thing to obtain. Sequel to Shattering the Broken.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! I'm back! And I offer you all the final piece of Part I of the Assassin plot that I'm dragging the boys through. (The first two parts are Guardian Stalker and Shattering the Broken, if anyone would like to know/remember.) And I think the first thing I must say is... More torturing Fenton time! And also a lot of confusing understandings due to Fenton being sick. All I will say is that dreams and reality should never go in a blender, and the product fed to a sick person.

The chapter's short, but it pretty much is the intro to Fenton's personal hell. So step on up, boys and girls. It's time to begin the ride.

I do not own the Hardy Boys. However, I do possess a ton of their books... it's not the same, though. *sighs*

Enjoy!

* * *

"Sickness comes from the mind sometimes," Jackie stated simply, stirring the soup slowly without much attention. "Of course, extra strain on the body doesn't help the case much, either."

Laura stared at the papers on the table, silently spreading them out as she saw fit. Her eyes seemed to be stained with tears, although they were actually dry.

"You know that he's the reason why both of your sons got the fate that they have. Life is a fickle sometimes."

"You've… why do you talk like that?" It was the first time Laura had spoken that day.

The stirring continued, even though the pace slowed down a bit.

The teenager took in a deep breath, and let it out with a sigh. "Have you ever had a dream broken?"

When Laura didn't answer, Jackie continued.

"This is the second time that any real dream that I longed for was shattered. I always believed that I would end up like this, but now… Now is the time where I have no grasp of the world anymore."

"We've all entertained thoughts of death. It's my turn now." With that, Jackie poured a few ladles into the bowl waiting on the counter, before taking the bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. She left the kitchen for the staircase, ignoring the set of blue eyes that were torn from the paper to watch her.

"What fools this world has created. We all believe, and we all break what we believe in. Is it so hard to see why suicides happen?" she asked herself. Her thoughts paused as she reached the closed door.

"What has happened to us all, anyways?"

Carefully placing the spoon within the soup o that it would not fall into the soup or the ground, Jackie opened the door. There, lying within the tangled sheets suffering from his sickness, Fenton Hardy rested.

"A man like you had so much and lost it all," she muttered, knowing that no one was actually listening. "You gave it all to your career without realizing it, and hurt your sons in the process."

Silently, she walked over and laid the bowl on the night table before turning her attention to the sleeping figure. "Joe told me that you were a father to him for all of a week. Joe is fifteen and Frank is sixteen. Don't you realize how small a week is compared to those years?"

"And then you saw them as failures for messing up one mission. One among their many. You drove Frank to commit suicide, and it was Joe who fixed that blunder. And then Assassin Agents came along, and you thought that your sons were trying to ruin your life."

"Let me tell you something, Fenton Hardy. Killers or not, everyone has reasons and everyone isn't perfect. Frank thought that you would either notice him or it would finally push you out of his life. He dragged Joe in, and now you lost them both."

"What kind of man are you?"

As she left the room, Fenton slowly opened both of his eyes, his brain still trying to drink in every single word that she spoke. Somehow he knew that those worlds would haunt him.

"Daddy?" The voice was high pitch and full of innocence, which made the man wonder for a moment why the voice seemed new and yet so familiar.

"Stop it!"

"But he promised-"

"Dad promises lots of things! But he's important-"

"But he's our dad!"

Fenton wanted to open his eyes and find out what sight would greet him, but they refused his brain's command.

"But he has work!"

"I hates it when he works! He never has time to play!"

"I hates it too."

The voices silent themselves for a moment, seeming to contemplate their current predicament. As the seconds passed by with the grace of syrup, Fenton could feel more questions surface within his head. Why did the voices sound like something he heard long ago? And what were they doing here, in the bedroom?

Another voice entered the conversation, this one distant and full of life. "Boys! Stop bothering your father and come down here!"

"We're not-"

"Coming, Mom!" the other voice interjected, before whispering, "Come on Joe! We should listen to Mom!"

"But… okay…" There was a sigh of defeat. "Do you think Mom has snacks, Frank?"

The light patter of feet on the floor filled the room, just as Fenton won the struggle to open his eyes. The light stung as if hoping to break Fenton's will. But the man continued, and his eyes fully widened when he realized what was in front of him.

The retreating figures of his two sons, both reduced to young boys barely even ready for any kind of schooling, walking towards the door broke his heart. The reminder of the beginning was also a reminder of the end.

As he closed his eyes, a different voice filled his head. It belonged to Frank, the one that had recently taken his own life in a huge fireball. Another one chimed in, that of his other son who had willingly let Frank take his life for reasons still lost on the PI.

"Dreams are killers themselves, don't you think?"

"You're forgetting that ideas are too. After all, that's all we've been chasing in life."

* * *

Jackie has pretty much adopted the role as wise ass in that higher up sort of way. She has lost part of the will to live, after all. Laura's taking it pretty hard too. And as for Fenton... it's only the beginning...


	2. Chapter 2

These chapters are turning out to be short compared to what I usually write... but they're fitting, so hopefully it works out.

Sorry about the delay. Turns out there's still things needed to be done and plots that needed to be worked out. As well as an addiction to Firefly that needs to be calmed (it's an awesome show, though...)

I do not own the Hardy Boys. If I did, I think I would have made Fenton a bad guy...

Enjoy!

* * *

The room seemed to move every time he did. There was no stability. Maybe there never was. Fenton felt as if someone had dropped him on a never ending ride, only enhancing his sickness.

"Such an idiot," Jackie muttered once while Fenton had enough conscious to allow himself to listen to anyone or anything that happened to make a sound. "Men on their graves wish that their time was spent with family and friends. Your work can bring you dead every day. And then it switched so that your sons could die at any given moment."

The sound of glass full of water being placed upon the nightstand filled the PI's ears.

"What does it feel like to know that it all slipped by?"

No other sound filled the room, and the groggy mind reasoned that she must have left him to suffer in his own sickness. It sounded like something the girl would do.

He pondered over the words at an incredibly slow pace. He wasn't the reason why his sons were dead, right? They had made their own choices, and suffered their own consequences. There was nothing more to it all but that.

_But they both told you that you weren't there for them. That Frank almost committed suicide because he wanted you to pay attention to Joe,/i_ a nagging voice in his head told him, as if mocking his reasoning. _iAnd weren't Joe's last words cursing you out for your job as a father?_

Fenton tried to argue against the voice in his head. After all, how often does a bad parent corrupt two teenage boys so much-

_Don't lie to yourself. How many cases have you solved that had a troubled teenager with a parent who didn't care?_

He then tried to reason that Laura was good enough as a parent-

_She was all alone with the boys. They didn't have a father figure._

He was doing it all for them-

_How could they know? You never talked to them._

He suddenly felt like screaming. The voice was after him. It was going to consume him-

At that point, he realized that paranoia had filled his head along with the sickness. Allowing himself to accept the warmth of the bed, he slipped into sleep. Just as his mind quieted down, it shot a single thought through his head.

_Do they really have the right to blame me?_

"Are you addicted?"

Frank's voice pulled Fenton out of his slumber, but not to the point where the man could open his eyes and gaze at the source. Instead, he could hear the voice through the haze that had settled in his mind, grasping the tone and harshness in the words.

"I sure am," Frank's voice continued. It reminded Fenton of the time where his own son kidnapped him. When he spoke, he sounded like many of the cold, heartless killers that Fenton had to deal with before he retired. But there was something else in his voice. Something…

"It isn't drugs, so don't worry your stupid head over that." A brief chuckle seemed to fill the room. "But wouldn't that be something. Fenton Hardy's son addicted to some kind of illegal drug. Or maybe even legal ones that have been over abused. Wouldn't matter to your reputation much, now would it?"

"No, _Dad._ It isn't a drug. Mine is more of the… immediate danger type. The slow killing ones are okay, I guess, if you want your life to just slip away."

"But I'm talking about killing."

Did his breath hitch? It should have. Frank, the level headed intelligent boy, could not be possibly-

"Maybe any kind of death. I'm a bit picky on the who's dying from what, but usually it all works out." The voice drew out the last words. "Especially if I'm the one doing the killing."

The sound of loading a gun came into Fenton's ears.

"Maybe even if I killed myself, my addiction will be fulfilled. You never know…"

The sound of a chair moving on the hardwood floor paused any words coming from Frank's voice.

"See what Snake left me? I'm not sure if he meant to, but somehow I think it's a wonderful gift. A wonderful, deadly gift."

* * *

"Hm. You act as if death is the only thing you're addicted to." Jackie's fingers flipping through the cards, pausing every once in a while to gaze at the picture of the finished dish would look like if one had followed the recipe.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You have another addiction, and you know it."

"Enlighten me, then. What else am I addicted to?"

"Lying."

The word hung in the air for a moment, accompanied by silence.

When her companion didn't speak, she continued. "It's becoming very close to an addiction, isn't it? Almost there, but not quite. You're just waiting for something to push it over."

"Jackie…"

"You didn't tell him about the Assassins."

Silence reigned once again.

"You lied about that. They never contacted you, never once offered you a chance to join the few? Bullshit."

"They asked you too."

"You know what I told them. And I know what you told them. The only question is, what about Lion?"

"Lion isn't-"

"He's like us. Spiraling down that bottomless pit. While you have the addiction, he has the anger."

"Don't we all. The world lies to us all-"

"He looks for the truth. You look for the lies. It makes you think, doesn't it? How both can kill."

He didn't say anything for a moment. Then, sighing, he muttered, "They understand us, Jackie. It's an open offer. They won't hunt us down if we had disagreed or denied it."

"But we both know it's going to happen. We've been pushed to hard to turn back and accept the world as it is."

"You're right. I can't accept it anymore."

With that, he disappeared out the back door, never once making a sound to betray the idea that she had been alone the entire time.

* * *

There's quite a bit of foreshadowing for Part II of the Assassin plot I have... plotted... ^^; (Yeah, I know, this is beign dragged on. I swear that Part II will be much more fun, though. That is, if you like really really twisted plots and changing morals...)


	3. Chapter 3

Happy Forth of July, everyone! (or, at least, everyone who celebrates it)

So, another chapter. Honestly, these chapters just get more confusing... Mainly because it's supposed to make little to no sense at the moment.

I do not own the Hardy Boys.

Enjoy!

* * *

He checked the number in his head again as he had done for the past two hours. He checked what he had written down as his count over an hour again. Then the numbers he had scribbled less than half an hour ago.

It took Fenton a moment to realize that he had been counting faster when he had realized what the numbers were saying.

"Fenton…" Laura cautiously entered the room, as if scared that her husband would explode. "What are you doing with the photo albums?"

"Just looking," he answered absentmindedly. He flipped the hardcover binding so that he was at the beginning again. How could it be…? He had counted three times, so surely he would have-

"You've been looking at them for two hours, from what Jackie has told me. Surely you found whatever you've been looking for-"

He started to ignore the words, and listened to the voice itself. Despite the illness that still robbed him of most of his energy, he could pick up the annoyance and anger in his wife's voice. "Laura, they were my children too."

"What- How-" He could almost hear the tears in his eyes from the past experience that he had dealing with these sort of situations. He never bothered to look up to confirm his thoughts, though.

"What Frank and Joe did was wrong. If they were still alive, I wouldn't hesitate to hand them over to the authorities-"

"How could you? They're your sons!"

"They don't treat me as a father!"

"You were never there!" she screamed. It almost amazed Fenton how fast his wife had gone from her quiet voice to screaming at him.

"I was there when it counted!"

"No you weren't! What about graduation?"

"It was only graduating elementary and middle school! Those don't count!"

"How many holidays have you missed?"

"I was away on important business!"

"What's more important?" The final scream forced the man to stop his answers. He realized that his voice was growing horse, and any energy that didn't get lost to battling his sickness suddenly left him. The room was beginning to tilt.

"They would understand if they were in my place," the retired PI muttered back weakly.

"They still would have more compassion." She retreated back to the door, but before slipping out, she added, "What did I see in you all those years ago?"

But instead of pondering over her words, Fenton leaned his head against the pillow and wondered about the numbers he had found. Out of the two hundred pictures he found in the photo album, he was in only thirty of them. Only fifteen percent.

* * *

"Why the hell would you even bother looking through this?"

Fenton's eyes snapped open at the sound of Jackie's voice. The weight of the photo albums were removed from the bed. It was light. Somehow, it didn't comfort him as much as he would have thought it would.

The girl hovered over his line of vision, where he could clearly see her frown as she tuck the album under her left arm. The teenager was ignoring him (though he was positive that the frown on her face was not for anything but him) and adjusted the weight to balance in her grip.

It felt like an eternity before Jackie looked at Fenton again. There was something in her eyes that seemed to dare him to speak with the hidden promise to crush him fully if he tried to attempt it at all.

"How many memories did you miss? How many moments?"

When she didn't get an answer (something told the PI that she wasn't expecting one), she continued. "You know, I envied Frank and Joe. Imagine growing up without a family. You read my files; you know how bad it was for me."

"You had a roof over your head." The words were out of his mouth before he could ponder whether it was a good idea or not to argue with the person taking care of him. (Laura had avoided him as much as she could; in fact, the argument they had earlier was the first one they had since he was sick.)

"A roof to survive nature only to suffer under my parents. What a great trade off." She leaned over so that part of her shadow covered Fenton's face. "A parent should guarantee love and shelter for children. My parents devoid me of love. But you played a different game. Love pulled and stretched still can't fill an empty void."

"I loved them!"

"I didn't say that you didn't. You just twisted it." She straightened up. "You see, they're at the point where they understand that daddy's love means nothing. It's only a sad reward that makes you wonder what this world is about sometimes."

Turning to the door, she added, "That's what my parents did for my older siblings. They were supposed to be more competent than I could ever be. They had the talent that my parents wanted. They didn't give a damn about me. And now they're suffering."

"You… you didn't…"

"They did it to themselves. One has anorexia; the other became so much of a workaholic that she couldn't think straight." Jackie looked down at the floor. "Drove straight off the edge of a bridge and died. I sometimes wonder if she knew what she was doing at that moment."

She walked through the door, closing it behind her. And not once did she spare Fenton another glance. Instead, if anything, she seemed to have a tighter grip on the album.

The PI closed his eyes, letting the words run over through his mind. There was some kind of sadness in the girl's voice, mixed with something that his mind couldn't quite identify. While the emotion couldn't be identified, the words behind it were. _If I was to kill her, it would have been painless._

He silently wondered how much of the life of an assassin became a part of who she was.

Another voice seemed to creep up in his mind. It was different than the ones that haunted him from the past few days.

"I never understood you, Dad," Joe's voice whispered. "You and your stupid pride. You always kept it in the back of your mind, and didn't even realize it was there."

_He never loved you right, did he?_

"What did you keep in mind more? Your pride or your sons?"

_Because you never loved him right._

"Hmph. Why am I even bothering to ask you? You're more like him. You like your lies."

_And it gets worse, Fenton._

"Then again, maybe your lies are your truths."

_It always does, remember?_

"It's all a point of view. Right Dad?"

_That's how you all took out the Assassins the first time._

"But you wouldn't understand us, then. I mean, we barely understand you sometimes."

_But they're coming back Fenton, haven't you heard? And they'll hurt more now._

_After all, they're after the children._

Fenton's mind went dizzy to the point where he would have collapse if he had been standing. Instead, his head sunk into the pillow as he became unconscious, whispers still filling his ears.

* * *

"He's different, Jackie. I can't help him anymore."

"No." Her eyes focused on the photo album, looking at one of the few photos that contained Fenton. "I mean, yes. He's different. We can't help him. But… don't you get a sense that this is what has been hiding in him all along?"

Her companion paused, and as she looked up she could see him contemplating the question. It took a minute before he met her gaze and spoke. "We're all hiding something like this, don't you think? So many psychologists have said so in the past."

"We aren't talking about psychologists. We're talking about what we think."

"Then I think that we all had it in us. The catch was that they never would have come out until all of this happened."

"Do you think we can escape it?"

Another pause, before the answer. "Maybe. I've been trying for the last day or so, but Frank…"

He tugged the photo album over to his side of the table, glancing at the pictures that were displayed. "The kid in the photos won't ever be like this. He's embracing the changes now that Snake is gone. We can't stop him."

"How far will he go?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure if I want to know." He got up suddenly, and turned for the door.

Jackie decided to ask her last question for her companion before he left for who knows how long. "Do you not know because you just won't figure it out in your head?"

He let out a laugh. "Of course. We're all scared, Jackie. Hell, he might even kill himself for real because he's scared of what he's becoming."

With that, Joe Hardy disappeared into the night.

* * *

Yup, Joe's alive. I'm not that cruel... at least, not in the way you think... *evil laughter*

And I totally disagree with Fenton. Elementary and middle school graduations count, although for different reasons and while not as big, just as important.


	4. Chapter 4

Why does it feel like it's been since forever that I updated this? *checks the last update* Oh, right... two weeks... my bad ^^;

I don't own the Hardy Boys (they're scared for their mental health...)

Enjoy!

* * *

The words seemed to hang in the air, smothering any thought that was popping up into Fenton's head. He had brought it upon himself, asking the question to the teenage girl who was becoming more and more like family to Laura. As much as he hated to admit, it was possible that Jackie was beginning to replace his sons' presence in the world.

The dark eyes didn't light up as he had expected them to. Instead, they seemed to darken as she repeated the words. "You want to adopt me."

He nodded.

She turned her attention back to the dishes she was washing in the sink. Her eyes glazed over as she lost herself to her thoughts, ignoring the PI's presence at the kitchen counter. It was over a minute before she spoke another word. "Why?"

That was a bit of an odd question. "You should have a family to help you deal with all of the-"

"The pain? Don't make me laugh." She kept a steady gaze at the plate in her hands. "You would just make it worse."

"Jackie-"

"The closest I had to brothers were your sons, Mr. Hardy. I would be betraying them if I suddenly forgave you, now wouldn't I?"

"They would want you happy-"

"On my own terms. They would also care for my safety. That's two things that I am unsure of your abilities to provide."

He could feel his anger beginning to bubble. "I gave my children a roof to sleep under-"

"I thought you had disowned them by now," she muttered softly. She placed the plate in her hands to the side, and picked up a glass that was waiting in its filth. "And a roof to sleep under isn't enough, sometimes. You may not understand it, but the maturing and changing for people are more than what one thinks it is. Even the brightest fall to corruption and even those who start at the bottom can climb up to the sky."

"You… don't want to be adopted?"

"You've seen my files. Look at what happened to my siblings. Look at Frank and Joe. Hell, look at me. Do you see a pattern?"

"Most people turn out okay-"

"Mr. Hardy, I'm not most." You lifted the clean bowl in her hands carefully, turning to face the man. "As you have pointed out many times in your rants that you have when you're half awake, I am a murderer. Even if the FBI has allowed us due to the conditions, I still killed people without much thought into their redeeming qualities and whatever else normal people sometimes wonder."

"The ATAC people conditioned you for it. We can talk to a psychologist to reverse it-"

"That's the troubling part. I don't want to be 'fixed.'" She held out the glass, letting the kitchen light reflect off the shiny surface. The light, pastel colors defining flowers in its outer design danced in front of his eyes. Fenton couldn't help but wonder if he was sicker than he actually felt.

Suddenly, the teenage girl tossed the bowl onto the floor over the counter. It shattered, the pieces flying off into different directions. The counter served as a shield for the two, one whose eyes widened at the sight, while the other kept a stoic face.

"I'm not some puzzle you can fix back up once you break. None of us were. We're all dishes. You can never really fixed them without missing some pieces, seeing the cracks, and getting rid of all the sharp edges." Jackie walked towards the closet near the doorway. "All you can really do sometimes is step on the glass and see what happens."

"What- Jackie-"

"It hurts," she continued, as if Fenton never spoke. "But it helps if one learns how to bite their tongue." She opened the door, and pulled out a cloth. "Of course, you could always get rid of it."

Behind his criticizing glare, Fenton wondered how much one has to lose before they gain that cryptic wisdom that a girl her age should never possess.

* * *

"He should be dead," a voice whispered above his waking figure. Fenton dared not to open his eyes, in fear of alerting whoever the person was that he was awake and listening. The voice was unfamiliar. It belonged to a woman; a young one, from what he could tell. The voice had an air of laughter in it, making him worry for the safety of the others occupying the house.

A man's voice responded to the remark. "We're not here to do any such thing."

"I know." The woman's voice was whining and very childlike. "But why wouldn't he want this guy dead? Have you seen his job as a father?"

"If we didn't have our own issues with our parents, none of us would be in this predicament."

"There would be no reason for us to bother doing anything that we do because there would be no one who would be worth killing. And it would all be perfect and happy and all that jazz."

"It's a wonder that parents aren't required to take a long course about how to raise their kids."

"You know the government, sweetie. You were practically growing up with them."

The man sighed in annoyance. "They'll learn their lesson later. Trisha and I will make sure of it."

"But when?"

Silence filled the room, but Fenton did not dare open his eyes. Who were these people? It sounded as if they had already killed multiple victims. There was no remorse in either voice. And they even talked about future deaths…

Was this a prediction? Was this how his sons would have turned out if they were still alive? Would they talk about stealing life as if it were morally right and a daily occurrence in their lives?

_How about Jackie? Don't you wonder if she will do the same things willingly? In fact, she admitted she didn't want to change, didn't she?_

The PI attempted to will the voice out of his head, but had a feeling that it stopped speaking more on its own accord rather than his pushing. While either one would have brought about the current (and appreciated) silence, it was still discomforting to think that he might have been developing a split personality. After all, that's what started Frank's descent into his madness.

Wasn't it?

"When are you going to find your father and sister?" the man asked finally. "She deserves the truth, you know."

"Yes… but I remember how I found out. Everything shattered from me and Dorian. Well, as long as Dorian lived…" The woman paused, her voice dampened with her sadness. Finally, she said, "Not until I know that the world won't crash too hard for her. Not before."

A silence settled again in the room, making Fenton wonder how long the couple of strangers were willing to sit. Were they waiting for him to wake up before killing him? Were they hoping to torture him for information?

_You could be nicer. They're waiting for you to start the show, or so you say. You can never really judge anyone by anything these days._

_After all, you never marked your kids as killers or suicidal, did you?_

"Should we go?" the man asked. If Fenton wasn't keeping up the façade of sleeping, he would have breathed a sigh a relief. In reality, the breathing pattern that he kept up changed ever so slightly. Hopefully, the other two didn't notice it.

"Fine," the woman said. Her voice was then directed towards the PI. "I can't wait 'til you see what hell you brought down."

Footsteps seemed to echo in the room. The door was closed before the man bolted upright in the bed. He was going to call the cops and teach those killers-

"What are you doing?" Jackie asked icily.

"What…? But… there was two people-"

She glared at him. "What are you talking about?" Something in her voice hinted at the idea that she thought he was losing it. He probably was, too.

"Nothing…"

He figured that maybe the medication was making him hallucinating. It has happened before. Maybe not to the degree he was experiencing, but the mental stress that he was experiencing probably added to it.

Fenton never heard the smallest of steps slipping away towards the stairs as he lost his mind to his thoughts.

* * *

"They almost got caught," Jackie said to the other teenager in the room. "Was it really necessary for them to see your father?"

"Yes," he said truthfully. Something in his chest clenched, reminding him of the changes his brother had gone through after he faked his death for the second time. "Arthur's father worked with ours during the Network's time."

"Does that make them enemies automatically?"

"Anyone who kills for 'unjust' reasons is my father's enemy." Joe sighed softly. "There is forgiving, but not redemption in his eyes. Frank and I will never be his sons again, no matter what anyone says."

"He offered to adopt me," the girl said in a whispering voice. The blond could see that she did not enjoy the offer at all. "I can't help but think that he's trying to redeem himself through me."

"We're all guilty," he muttered softly. "What did you say to his offer?"

"I told him that he can't change me. Other than that, I'm not sure." Her eyes focused on the table that separated them. "What did you say to the Assassins' offer?"

"I told them to wait. I…" He quietly thought up the words that would describe his turmoil. "We somehow addicted ourselves to killing, haven't we?"

"Not all killing," she responded. "Only the ones we deem guilty."

"_He_ still thinks that it makes no difference unless it was self defense." There was no questioning on who _he_ was. "And maybe it's true. I don't know."

"Well, what did you say?"

"I want to try this normal life thing first. ATAC's gonna back off us and get us all evaluated by some psychologist."

"So…"

"We've trained enough to know how to lie ourselves out of it. The Assassins might want to help, too. After all, Frank…" The rest of the words were caught in his throat. Frank had changed so much since Snake disappeared. The other personality that Frank had developed wasn't meant to survive too long, but just enough to pull his host through. But the outcome was… different. Unexpected.

Tempting to follow.

"Frank's waiting for us to join, too."

"We might have to at one point." He could feel his blue eyes tearing up. "But I want to wait. For Mom's sake."

"Does she know about the adoption plan?"

He shook his head. "I think Dad thought of that idea himself. She'll probably go along for your sake, though. She likes you."

"I'll… I'll consider it."

"And we have to consider the Assassins' offer. We either choose that or going with Dad's ideals and all." He took in a breath. "I hate to say it, but I can see myself on one side more than the other."

"And you don't want to."

"No, I don't," he admitted. "But I'm not Frank. I can't lie to myself constantly."

"He lies out loud, Joe. But he follows his heart in actions."

"I rather stick with the truth. And, truth is, it goes beyond addiction."

* * *

Yes, I'm still mean to Fenton. *smiles innocently*

As for the two people who Fenton "imagined" (not the voice in his head), we get to meet them in Part II! (Which is actually two chapters away from being started. And that means that this fic only has six planned chapters. Mainly because writing about Fenton's imagination (or is it?) gets on my nerves sometimes...)


	5. Chapter 5

It's almost done! Yays!

This chapter is one of those ones that explains everything including those little bits and pieces we authors like to hide. (Yes, it's evil, but it's fun. *grins*)

I do not own the Hardy Boys (even though our book collection puts a nice dent into the series).

Enjoy!

* * *

Fenton listened to the soft, almost impossible to hear footsteps of the teenage girl walking to the room. He hated to admit, but he was growing use to her unusual forms of communicating knowledge or wisdom. It seemed that his sons' deaths had left more of an impression on her than any of her own killings ever had or will.

Jackie opened the door softly, making no noticeable motion to show any surprise that the man was up. He had been getting better, despite the facts that the dreams continued to haunt him.

She walked over and leaned against a clear space next to the wall closest to the door. "What would you do in order to get your sons back?"

"My life," he said back. Somehow, the answer did not come as fast as he had expected it to be, and the PI silently wondered if the girl noticed.

"Even if they came back as the killers they were?" At this, her dark eyes glared at the man. Somehow, Fenton felt as if this were the bigger question for the moment.

"I…"

He wanted to say "Yes." He wanted to be able to hold his sons in his arm, and not wonder where he gone wrong, but instead just grateful that they were alive. After all, isn't that what the parent side of him had longed for since he had taken ill?

But he couldn't lie to her. Or to himself, for that matter. He knew that he could never really accept his sons back into his life without some kind of wondering. After all, they killed and lied to him. Frank had done the worse of both things, faking his death and outright challenging Fenton's authority by allowing Snake to run his life instead of going for help. Hell, Frank had even killed Joe willingly. While he might have understood Joe more and therefore been able to accept him faster and even better, Frank was another matter completely. He seemed to have agreed with his spilt personality about the way some people needed to be taken care of. Fenton wondered if in his last moments before being blown up, Frank had realized that he had sunken to the same point that the criminals he had killed without any remorse were at.

Fenton looked the girl in the eye. "I'm honestly not sure about Frank."

"Honesty, huh?" She let out a quick chuckle that seemed to be mocking the idea of such a thing. Then again, she probably was after she came to her own realization that the world was beyond any such ideals of good. "If that is the name of your game, Mr. Hardy, then I will play as well. I think you're well enough to handle the news."

"What news?"

"Do you realize how long you have been sick?"

"Um… I don't know."

"Over two weeks. With a combination of your lack of care for your body and stress, I can say that I'm surprised that it isn't any worse." She sighed softly. "When I was first asked to take Joe away, I was told not to harm him and only go after the combination for a safe that he had. A month or two before Frank was sent off to become a lab rat in the project of agents with weapons, he and Joe were asked to help guard a safe with important ATAC information. That safe happened to contain information on the corrupt group in the mist of the organization."

"They were people who were willing to compromise everything you had worked so hard to set up in order to satisfy personal needs. They stole, used agents to spy on their own personal enemies, and even sexually harassed and assaulted some of the teenagers who were willing to help get rid of crime. And they had no one to turn to."

"Assassin Agents was one of their twisted plans that they brought up. The one thing you did right was oppose the plan from the beginning. No one knew what would occur. They had planned to use Frank as a way to bargain with you if ever caught. A brainwashed hostage is what they planned for. They hoped to turn me into their brainwashed killer, playing off my own hatred for this world."

"Frank couldn't handle the idea of stealing another life. Even harming them with a gun seemed to be beyond his comprehension and ability to cope. Then it came time to catch our first bad guy." She closed her eyes to recall the memory. "The guy took off running at one point. We had to go after him before he found an innocent person and used them as hostage or just straight out killed them. I thought I could cut the guy off, and it turned out to be me to become the hostage. I felt certain that the guy would get away or at least kill me because Frank either wouldn't aim or would take too long to aim since he was dealing with a real target and hostage situation. Honestly, I wondered how the hell this kid of yours would become any kind of law enforcement person with his nerves. But… something in him just raised the gun and shot the guy in the eye. Didn't kill him, but it was close."

Fenton gasped at the realization of what had happened in that moment. "It was Snake, wasn't it?"

"The first time he showed himself to anyone else. I suspect Snake had shown up a few times before. I followed Frank out one night during a case because he had been acting weird, and I saw Snake fully in control, killing a guy without any effort at all. I told the mentor person we got the next day, but he refused to help. Then I figured out about the corruption. The man almost killed me, but Snake stepped in and killed him right in front of my eyes."

"I developed theories and all. Despite his morals, Frank studied a lot of ways to kill and spy and such. I guess it was to compensate for the fact that his actual execution of such skills sucked. But Frank was proud that Snake was there. He felt as if he could make some kind of difference…"

"But even Snake had limits. Frank was able to control who the assassin in him would go after. Joe was never in any harm. We were planning to release him. But he had a death wish like Frank once had."

The word "death" sent chills into Fenton's heart. He recalled the dream with Frank in it, and the loud musings on whether his own death would soothe his lust for killings.

"Frank refused. Instead, he gave Joe a way to lash back. He let Joe think whatever he wanted to about spying on you. He could have thought that he was helping his brother against you or just blame Frank for betraying someone who was supposed to be an icon in their lives. I personally think he believed in the first one more. But it wasn't enough."

The man supplied the beginnings of his dislike for his second son. "He began killing as well."

She nodded. "It might have been pent up frustration that took too long to release. He regretted the moments, though. Came back visibly shaken for a while. But his love to help his brother overcame his senses a lot of the time. Eventually, he found that thing in each of us that tells us that we can deal with such things like daily life."

"But even he had his limits. On his birthday, to completely pull Joe out of the picture of all of this, Frank-"

"Wasn't they're another option?" Fenton suddenly asked. "Frank could have done something else besides kill him!"

"That's exactly what he did, Mr. Hardy. We faked his death."

The news shocked the man, overwhelming his mind. Joe… alive? Was she lying? Was he okay? How could he let such a thing happen to his brother of all people?

"I'm not lying." Apparently, his distrust was evident on his face. "We had to give those traitors at ATAC a reason to not try and go and catch Joe for themselves. He knew the combination for the safe because he was the one trusted to open it and burn all the contents if something happened on the mission. He was their kryptonite."

"We put some cases of fake blood under his shirt that would burst at certain times. The gun Snake- no, _Frank_, was holding had blanks. There was a hole in the wall, hidden behind all the tires that blocked your view of the body and explosives. He had just enough time to run out and activate it to explode himself."

"And then you proceeded to kidnap Laura," he accused.

"The more we seemed to taunt you, the less likely the people would believe you mistrusted them. And we were worried about her security. We were more discreet about yours, if it makes you feel any better."

"You were watching over me?"

"Joe and I spilt the duties, while the other watched Laura. Frank played his cat and mouse game with you, knowing that Snake was dying-"

"What?"

"Snake wasn't meant to be a permanent personality, believe it or not. Once he felt as that Frank was mentally ready for the world, he accepted his fate. While you may not understand, Snake cared for his host-"

"He let Frank commit suicide! Frank purposely let those bombs there and allowed himself to be locked up-"

"Both of your sons are very hard to kill, Mr. Hardy. Joe managed to slip into the basement the second you left and got Frank out of there-"

"They're alive? Both of them?"

"They are currently with FBI psychologists, who are analyzing their mindsets. The officials are not too fearful of your sons becoming the next biggest crime lords, but they have concerns. After all, they have been emotionally detached from the person who was supposed to be an excellent father for almost all of their lives. A rebellion streak can turn into a revolution sometimes."

At this point, she was fully glaring at him. "Phil Cohen wasn't so lucky. He's been suffering verbal abuse from his so called friends for years because of his intelligence. We managed to save him from one of those rogue ATAC agents who was about to murder him. But even though we tried to help, he wasn't healed. The police found a suicide note in his room this morning. All evidence points to him jumping off one of the local bridges. A body hasn't been found, but no one's hopeful. The current here is quite strong."

He stared at her, trying to digest the news. How could she dare compare this tragic death to her sons? Who did she think she was, saying that he was _lucky-_

But he realized that she was right. While the PI would never admit it to her face, she had drawn such a picture for him. Despite the numerous factors that would make the situation like comparing oranges to apples, one could still compare the fruits and make their own decisions and opinions. Phil had died because he could not stand the abuse of his friends, whether they meant it or not. Frank and Joe thought they had lacked a father figure in their lives, and read into things too much, whether they meant to or not.

"Why did you wait until now to tell me all this?" he finally asked, his voice coarse from the lack of use during his sickness.

"You were sick," she said simply. To end his confused look, the teenager added, "We weren't sure how you would handle the news while on the medication. Laura was especially worried that you would do something stupid because of your mindset."

"Did you not think I suffer guilt that prolonged it?" Fenton asked, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Guilt? Mr. Hardy, I've heard you mumbling when you slept. You put all the blame on the other two. If you had any guilt, you're trying to convince yourself that your sons are really to blame. Not to mention that your guilty conscious talks only when you're awake, which might be a sign of you trying to force yourself to feel the remorse that you don't naturally feel."

"How can you-"

"Yes, Fenton Hardy, I dare accuse you for having no feelings for your sons. Family tries not to lie to each other, so I am telling you what I honestly feel." She paused, turning towards the door. "I am allowing myself to become a Hardy. Not for your sake, but for your sons and wife. Find your own path to redemption, Mr. Hardy. It's not too late."

Jackie slipped out of the door, not glancing back to see the man collapsing onto the bed, feeling older than he was.

* * *

His eyes snapped open at the looming figure's breath. It was loud, ragged, and had an edge of danger within it. As much as he hated to say it, it was once a familiar and comforting sound to him, but he couldn't understand why.

Fenton's eyes were met with the cold, lifeless eyes of Phil Cohen.

The teenager looked drenched and cold, the lighting playing against his deathly pale skin. A small trickle of blood ran from his hairline and over his left eye before spilling onto his cheek and deathly pale lips before dripping onto his shirt. The worse part were the eyes. They were glazed over yet burned as they stared directly into Fenton's. They had lost all sign of life and were duller as a result. But they seemed so_ focused_ on the PI…

Suddenly, cold, clammy hands shot up and wrapped themselves around Fenton's neck. He tried to manage any kind of noise, but the strength of the human noose was already taking its toll.

He could hear Phil's voice mentally. _"__They failed me. They all failed me. Why? Why?"_

He couldn't breathe. His life was slowly slipping away.

_"Someone… someone help me! Please!"_

Fenton blinked. It was now Joe who was squeezing the life out of him. There were bullets holes covering his chest, bleeding out onto the thin blanket on the bed.

_"You didn't care… why couldn't you care?"_

Fenton blinked again. Frank was on fire, burning alive as his grasp on his father's neck felt like it was burning as well.

"Fenton!"

Jackie's words filled his head as he slipped out of consciousness. He was too tired to fight off the choke hold or the haunting words. _"A rebellion streak can turn into a revolution sometimes… Guilt? Mr. Hardy…"_

His eyes snapped open after he felt someone pushing against his shoulder. Instead of a living corpse, he was greeted to the worried face of his wife.

"Nightmare?" she asked softly, relief evident on her face. "You were thrashing in the bed-"

"I'm fine, Laura. I think the medication is finally taking its leave." He settled back onto the bed, trying to smile for her sake.

Somehow, the impression of the dream left him the idea that this was far from over.

* * *

"Thanks for telling him," Joe muttered to Jackie. The trio of teenagers was in Frank's room, quietly discussing things that they felt needed to be cleared up.

"I wish I could have punched him," she answered back. "He still has this idea that it's all your fault."

"Well, we did go off and killed a bunch of people."

"The molding helps create the use." She turned her attention to the other male in the room. "You didn't let Shadow die, did you?"

It was more of an accusation that a question. Frank just shrugged in response. "He was beyond help."

Joe countered the statement. "You lie in almost every single thing you say. You did save him, didn't you?"

When Frank didn't answer, Joe continued. "I found out where you brought him, and he told me. You were almost a second away from being too late. Just when he jumped off, you got to the spot where he was and grabbed him hand. You pulled him up while talking to him with your stupid lies, and saved his life."

"No, I didn't. Phil's dead, Joe."

"And we're saints," Jackie muttered. When Frank gave her a look, she explained, "Somehow, while you've become addicted to lies, your brother seems to be addicted to truth. I doubt he'll be able to use sarcasm for a while."

Joe nodded in agreement, and his eyes widened when Frank pulled out the revolver. "So, is it-"

Frank suddenly spun the barrel and squeezed the trigger, aiming at his own temple. When nothing happened, he slowly opened the barrel and began to pull out the bullets.

"Five out of six full. How many times have you've been playing Russian roulette with yourself?" Jackie asked.

"Once or twice."

"Hours on end," Joe translated. "The odds of not getting killed are really, really small."

"Unless it's somehow true…" Jackie said, quietly pondering if anything like the things that Snake had mentioned in the note could be true at all.

"Snake's spirit isn't in the gun," Frank stated. The other two knew what he had really meant instantly.

Snake hadn't left them. He knew that there was more in this world that they would have to deal with.

_The question is, what?_

* * *

So close to being done with this part... Of course, I have to be mean to Fenton one more time... *evil laughter*


	6. Chapter 6

It's the last chapter! Woot!

So, this wraps up Part I: Snake. I'll get to other details at the end of the chapter.

For now, I'm here to say that I do not own the Hardy Boys and request that you all enjoy!

* * *

Fenton looked at the trio of teenagers, and something inside him felt a bit of pity. Here were a group of teenagers who thought that they were doing right by stealing the lives of other corrupt people. Why didn't they realize that they had fallen to the same level as other crooks and criminals by killing? In fact, the teens probably thought that it was noble, maybe even heroic, of them to perform the tasks that they had.

There was no denying the psychologist's repot, however. The woman (who was actually a friend of theirs) said that most of what they had told Fenton about enjoying killing was an act of rebellion to show that they were upset with him. She reported that they children actually disliked the idea of killing, despite their reasoning that at the time, they would be saving countless others. While Frank needed more counseling than the others, it was almost assured that they would be back to normal.

Of course, he couldn't say the same thing for his trust in them.

"There are no weapons in the house?" he asked again.

"Fenton." Laura glared at his from her spot near the doorway. "They've already said that they don't have anything! I've accounted for the kitchen knives-"

The man revised the question. "Are there any guns in this house?"

"No," Jackie said flat out, staring back at the PI in a challenging way.

"I don't have a gun," Frank said after her.

Joe sighed. "I do not have a gun."

Fenton glanced at his youngest son, feeling pity rise up in him. Joe seemed more of a victim of circumstance rather than choice compared to the other two. Maybe there was a chance for his redemption, even if it would take quite a long time.

Laura glared at him. "I cannot believe you, Fenton Hardy."

"Don't worry about it, Mom. Dad's justice thing refuses to let him trust us," Joe half joked, sadness reflecting in his eyes.

Fenton gave a curt nod before turning and walking to his study. All of the folders that his own children stole from him still had to be put aback, along with some new ones-

"Fenton." Laura followed her husband upstairs. "How could you? Grounded until you see fit? If you want them to go back to society, it's better that they're with friends-"

"Phil Cohen committed suicide."

"Does that make it right? He was their friend! In fact, in his suicide note, he named your two sons as his only true friends. If this ATAC issue hadn't come up, they would have probably stopped him!"

"He helped them murder people!"

"Have you forgotten that Frank tried to die quite a few times? Not to mention all the times your children almost died trying to protect everyone else?"

"They could have gotten those bastards arrested!"

"And what, hold a court in public where the reveal that there's been an undercover teenage operation going on throughout the country, compromising identities of so many others?"

"All I'm saying is that there was a better option-"

"What?" She stopped walking. "What would be a better option?"

He paused outside of his study door. After a moment, he admitted, "I don't know."

* * *

Sleep… not talking…

"Just one question. It's pretty much yes or no."

"Just ask and stop explaining!"

Who… what…

"Okay, fine. Fenton Hardy, if you had to choose between your children or the law, what would you choose?"

Such a… stupid question…

"Law…" he muttered softly, hoping that the voices would go away.

And they did.

* * *

Joe stared at the ground. "He'll regret it."

Jackie shot back, "He doesn't care, Joe. I'm not sure how he can regret it if he doesn't care."

"He'll sleep easy for the rest of his life…" Frank muttered, spinning the barrel of the revolver again… and again…

"I can't help but wonder how the hell you would know this."

"He doesn't really," Joe answered. "It's more of instinct with the hinted promise to make Dad regret it." He paused. "I should start saying Fenton instead of Dad, shouldn't I?"

"I will. I don't care if I am adopted by him," the teenage girl said. "What kind of parent is he, anyways?"

"Warm and fuzzy."

"Frank," Joe said. "How in the hell are you gonna keep up the lying?"

"I'll defy my nature once in a while," the oldest of the trio said truthfully. "I hate to, but if it's to keep him in the dark, then I'll do it."

"An addiction fails to compare to hatred. Such a dangerous thing," Jackie muttered.

"More than dangerous," Joe commented. "It's the sign of changes."

"A sign of lies, truths, and a reality beyond comprehension," the girl mused.

"A sign of hell," Frank muttered finally. "A sign of destruction raining in on lives."

* * *

If you can't tell, the part with the sleeping question thingy was in Fenton's point of view. Now you can't ask who it was! Mwahahahaha! (I've been reading Dilbert. Dogbert is such an awesome character. *grins*)

So, like I mentioned up top, this is the last bit of Part I: Snake of the Assassin series I have going on. And do you know what that means? Yes, it does mean that I am done with this part of the ATAC being corrupt and all the questioning and screwing with Fenton's head directly (for now, at least...). But it also means that Part II is coming! And I can say that I think that it'll be a bit more fun and interesting if one likes twisted characters. *evil grin* For those who don't want to look at my profile (or can't, since the mobile version of the sight doesn't let you see all the Author's Info things), I will tell you that the next part is called Rook and consists of two corresponding pieces: Lying Truths and Truthful Lies.

Another thanks for MCR-1993 for reviewing this. *hugs again*

Finally, I would like to thank all of you for reading! *hugs everyone* Ta ta for now!


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